


Baby Pull Me Closer

by mylovershumor



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylovershumor/pseuds/mylovershumor
Summary: "They sat there like that for a moment before Claire shifted and they both sat up. Matt could hear her pulse racing fast like a jack rabbits, could almost feel the tension in the air as the blood throbbed hot and close to her skin. There was a quickening to her breath and the sudden clench of her legs that said more than words ever could. God, Matt missed being close to her and her spitfire tongue and the way she cared so easily."





	Baby Pull Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I just needed more gratuitous smut with Matt and Claire these days so I decided I had to write it for myself.

Matt was hurt. He always hurt on the nights when the blackness of the back lit stars cast the city as dark as he saw it. There was something about doling out bruises and broken ribs that eased the ache left inside when he realized the isolation he so desperately pushed for had become him. Foggy and he hadn’t spoken for weeks and Karen had left Nelson and Murdock for green pastures at the _New York Bulletin._ Matt couldn’t. . . _wasn’t_ mad at that. Karen had taken to journalism like a fish to water and he was honestly happy the change that her investigating had initiated. The _New York Bulletin_ was starting to come back to its former glory and was one of the most trusted names in investigative news in the city.

That meant, unfortunately, that Karen became more target than most by mob bosses, criminals, and even various shady CEO’s; all this as she exposed underground crime rings and uncovered dirty deals in politics, promising money and resources to companies that didn’t need them in an effort to gentrify neighborhoods. Matt kept up his end of the deal that he made the first day he met her – he’d kept a careful ear out on her fire escape and on her rooftop to persuade criminals away from her doorstep. He was thankful that the rumor that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was vehemently protecting all those at the _Bulletin_ had spread. It meant that Karen was safer overall; even if she could barely stand to be near him these days, protection was the least he could offer her.

But he was really, honestly hurt tonight. Him and Frank had been on fairly good terms lately, but the shooter had gone M.I.A. for the past week and neither Matt Murdock nor the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could figure out where he had gone. A young gang member with something to prove (and who noticed the Devil didn’t have his typical sniper backup) had managed to get him with armor piercing bullets. Matt was thankful he had only managed to get nicked on his thigh and his side, but he was bleeding and he was hiding out until the shock left his head clear enough to think. There were sharp stinging needles of pain marching their way to his heart and out to his extremities and he needed help. Now.

_Claire._

****** 

When he stumbled in through her window, she screamed like she had seen a ghost before she proceeded to beat him once over the head with one of her throw pillows. He could hear before he feel the texture of the fabric rough against his mouth and he smiled despite himself.

“Hi, Claire,” he murmured, voice gravely from disuse.

“God, Matt. You scared me half to death. I thought maybe you were dead. I haven’t seen you,” she answered, and Matt heard the sound of her putting down a glass of water on her coffee table as she immediately went for her first aid supplies.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he responded, pulling his cowl from his head as he set himself down on her couch.

“What happened?” she asked as she came and squatted next to him, the smell of latex and powder preceding the sharp snap of gloves against her skin. He could smell her skin too, coffee and cinnamon, something warm and familiar that made the ache inside him throb to the beat of his heart.

“Armor piercing bullets. I don’t know who the supplier was but I know I took pretty nasty hits.”

“I can see that. Can you lift your arms?”

He let her unlatch his gloves from around his forearms and stretched as far as he could without pulling at the tender skin on his side. He let out a sharp hiss of pain as the material dragged over the open wound.  

“You’re going to need some stitches,” she told him, cleaning the wound on his side as much as she could.

“I figured as much.”

“Matt . . .” Claire sighed, exasperated as she prepped a suture needle.

He missed Claire more than he’d allow himself to admit. Even with the pain a sharp metallic taste in his mouth, he could still taste her on his lips if he gave himself a moment to remember her as she was in his apartment the morning after her kidnapping. Everything with her had been easy until it wasn’t.

“Sorry,” he answered, finally letting out a breath when she tied the wound closed and taped gauze around it.

“This makes me nervous, you know that?” she asked, and he heard the sound of her pushing her hair back from her forehead. “It makes me worry that someday someone is going to get smart with you before you have a chance to disarm or run away. Foggy told me about what happened the first time you had a run in with the Punisher.”

Matt heaved out a laugh as Claire helped him unbuckle his pants and slide them down over his wound.

“Not my best moment.”

“You could’ve been killed, Matt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

Claire sighed again and he heard her sit back on her coffee table.

“That’s not the point. These guys are getting wise to you and before you know it, you’re going to be more dead than I can fix.”

“I know, Claire. I know.”

He could feel her eyes on him, the focused burn as she cased the lines of his face for some hint of what he wasn’t telling her. Something about the way she looked at him – steady, calm – made him more uncomfortable in his skin than any malicious stranger. He always felt like she was moments away from peeling back his façade and exposing him to the world: soul and bone alike.

“Not sure how much longer I can be doing this, Matt,” she stated quietly, leaning in to clean up and suture the break in his leg. He could feel her breath against his thigh as she worked, quickly and efficiently as he’s sure she’d done a thousand times in the emergency room.

“I’ve been trying to keep myself off of your couch. So far the suit has worked.”

“And what about the day that it doesn’t? Worse than this time? I’m not going to be around to fix you forever Matt, as much as I want to.”

“Claire,” he says, leaning forward with a wince to take her wrist. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

She was still with his hand on her for a moment before she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his forearm. Matt was startled by the intimate touch from her – his body had been used to solitude for so long he wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden affection. He fought against the initial reaction to shake her away and instead leaned forward to press his mouth to the crown of her head, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and the warmth of her scalp.

They sat there like that for a moment before Claire shifted and they both sat up. Matt could hear her pulse racing fast like a jack rabbits, could almost feel the tension in the air as the blood throbbed hot and close to her skin. There was a quickening to her breath and the sudden clench of her legs that said more than words ever could. God, Matt missed being close to her and her spitfire tongue and the way she cared so easily.

“Well, you’re all patched up,” she said, quickly rising and pulling the gloves from her wrists to dispose of them. Matt stood with her and grabbed her wrist again, this time with purpose. He could feel his own blood quickening and felt his mouth go dry.

“Claire.”

He heard her swallow.

“Matt, don’t do this. It’s not good for us.”

“I know, Claire,” he said.

But he didn’t let go of her wrist.

He heard the sound of latex hitting the floor before her arms were around his head, mouth pressed insistently to his.

****** 

Claire lost herself somewhere in the in-between of Matt’s mouth on her pussy and the throb of her clit insistent in his mouth. She had heard things about his conquests, had heard things about Matt in bed, but she had never experienced much with him. Their relationship was short; it started and ended when he kissed her that morning in his apartment. She felt like she had spent the rest of the day with stars in her eyes despite the threat hanging over her head. But that Claire wasn’t her. She shook the feeling as easily as Matt had chosen the vigilante lifestyle – quietly and with great purpose.

But this, this was something she found herself falling into. She had to make a concerted effort not to tighten her thighs around his head, not to push down too hard onto his mouth and suffocate him more than she felt she already was. Matt’s fingers dug into the muscle of her upper thighs, keeping her anchored on his mouth and on the flick of his tongue against her. When he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, she had to put her hands out to support herself against her headboard, hitching her hips up unintentionally and quickly against his face. She was biting her bottom lip so hard she was surprised she hadn’t yet drawn blood. Occasionally, he would pull noises out of her that echoed off her small bedroom walls and open mouth moan against her; in these moments she was sure he was trying to kill her.

She was taut as a harp string and he was playing her for all the music she could make.

“Matt, fuck. Oh my god.”

She threaded the fingers of her right hand through his hair, watching his mouth work under her. When he lapped up into her she gasped and ground down on him, feeling insistent tendrils of an orgasm coil through her lower stomach.

“C’mon, Claire. C’mon,” he murmured against her skin as he pulled away for a brief breath. Then he opened his mouth against her, lapping her up like she was a peach he didn’t want to lose a single drop from.

The sensation was heaven, heavy and pulling at her and when she let herself give over to the sensation, she thought she would disappear. She couldn’t help the way she pushed herself down onto his mouth, the clench of her thighs around his head, the fluttering of her orgasm as it dragged an open mouthed cry from her. Matt lapped at her gently until the sensation was too much and Claire curled in on herself, stomach muscles jumping as she pulled off him, pussy still throbbing with phantom touch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, spreading his hands over her ribs to anchor himself on her body.

“God, Matt,” she whispered, pulling him up to kiss her wet and lingering. His mouth was swollen and red, face slightly slick and she felt her entire body throb with want for him again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grinned, smile slick and dark. She kissed him again instead of answering, pulling him in closer so she could get more of his skin under her hands. Matt was insistently hard against her thigh and she pulled away.

“Can I?” she offered, reaching a hand down to close around him.

“No, it’s fine,” he stated, leaning up to kiss her again and effectively moving her hand away.

“Matt,” she murmured, half-way to overwhelmed with the way he was kissing her.

“Claire,” he responded, shifting so that she was laying on him. He made no move beyond cupping her ass with his hands, moving to bite into her jawline and neck. Claire was sure he was leaving bruises for the next day and couldn’t care less, especially with the way he was moving down to capture a peaked nipple with his mouth.

Without thinking, Claire reached back, found him still erect, and slid backwards and down onto him.

Matt’s entire body jerked and he pulled off of her breast with a jolt, hands clasping hard around her hips.

“Fuck,” he swore, but held her there. “Claire, I said you didn’t have to-”

“Hush, Matthew,” she murmured, drawing the syllables of his name out like a prayer. “You’re doing me a favor.”

She was still aching, still slick with wanting for him. Claire wasn’t content with only one orgasm for the evening, considering how long she had waited for this. For him.

He was still breathing hard when she started to move, rotating her hips around and listening to the slick sounds of her opening for him. Her walls fluttered around him every so often, but she wanted this to last as much as he did. He was thicker than she imagined, the friction of him inside of her almost as overwhelming as his mouth on her. Claire liked riding him; he kept his hands on her hips and arched into her, murmuring her name like a dying man. There was a flush high up on his cheekbones and his lips were wet and red and Claire wanted nothing more than to claim him for her own, forever and always. When she leaned down to kiss him he surged into it, a hand coming up to cup her face as he bit her lower lip and tugged. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she felt the dark coil of another orgasm rear up quick and hard. She dropped her hips one last time and stilled, calling out Matt’s name as she clenched around him, body convulsing around a single point.

Matt was still kissing her when he grabbed her around the hips and back, flipping them over with him still buried in her. Dizzy with climax, Claire quickly came back to herself as he lifted a leg over his shoulder and shoved a pillow under her ass to arch her up to him.

“God damn it,” she swore as he buried himself to the hilt in her and began his relentless pounding. With the way her headboard was slamming into the wall she was sure she’d have plenty of complaints from her neighbors tomorrow, but in the moment she couldn’t think. He strained her leg when he leaned down to kiss her again, biting at her mouth like he couldn’t maintain the effort of sensuality. Claire dug the fingers of one hand into the nape of his neck, the other she pressed into his back, making crescent moon welts with her finger nails into the muscle.

“God, fuck, Matt! Fuck, fuck,” she panted, unable to stop herself. Her pussy was oversensitive in the aftermath of two orgasms, and the head of his cock dragged unrelenting against her g-spot until she was seeing stars. With her hips tilted up to him in the new angle, she was going to cum again and set a new record for herself. The revelation of this almost had her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She kissed him hard to muffle the scream of her third orgasm of the night, clenching like a vice down around him.

Matt followed her not long after, panting her name into her neck as he pulled out and spilled over her stomach. He was hunched over her in his pleasure, leaning up to kiss her again if only to gain his breath back.

This kiss was less insistent but no less wanted. Claire had never felt so thoroughly fucked in her life, and her entire body was melting into her sheets.

Except there was one matter to deal with.

“Matt?”

“Hmm?” he asked from where he was still pressing open mouthed kisses to her collarbones.

“I know this is entirely unsexy, but would you mind getting me a washcloth?”

Matt grinned up at her, eyes just left of her mouth and rolled out of bed. It still felt like a jolt of surprise when she watched how easily he maneuvered her apartment without the help of an arm or a cane. He felt for the doorway of her bathroom, but was quickly in and out with a washcloth before she could blink. He wiped himself from her stomach, softly and carefully, pressing a kiss just above her pubic bone when he was done.

“Are you okay?” he asked, softly as he rejoined her in bed after tossing the washcloth into the sink. Her body was already soft with sleep and she let herself easily curl into him.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Then, in the quiet of the unspoken, of what she was sure would never be discussed outside of her bedroom, she whispered, “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“That move with the pillow?”

A huff of a laugh, then, “Yeah?”

“You’re welcome to come over and pull that out any other time you like.”

With the unspoken spoken, Matt laughed hard and pulled her into him, the intimacy of her skin on his enough to soothe his wounds, physical or otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> Title pulled ambiguously from The Chainsmokers "Closer"


End file.
